i want to simplify my life. i want to drink my coffee black. i want to have a pair of shoes that goes with everything. i want a haircut that is wash and go.

our society has become too full of stress. it has been too busy, people rushing to get nowhere. i want to be healthy and happy. the way i think i will get that is through simplicity. it reminds me of the mennonite way i was raised, only quite more stylish.

halfway between the gutter and the stars is one of my favorite blogs to read. it is inspirational to me to read the blog of someone who is trying to recover, and who is actually honest about it. if you consider tourself reasonably unaffected by triggers, i think you should stop by.

they nominated me for the very inspiring blog award! in case you are new to this, being nominated is winning – they picked me to win. they deemed my blog ‘very inspiring’. i am flattered – thank you so much!

the “rules” are fairly straightforward.

thank the blogger who nominated you.
share seven things about yourself.
nominate other bloggers you think deserve the award, and post on their blog to let them know they’ve been nominated.

1) i am more clumsy than the average person. i have to have cups with lids, or i will spill. i have missed my chair sitting down too many times to count. i slip and fall regularly. this isn’t one of those generic “i am clumsy” teenage girl faults – people hear a loud noise, and look for me because they are sure sure i dropped something, or fell and got hurt. i am trying to learn how to take the reactions with grace.

2) naturally, i am a night-owl. i am more awake at 3am than i am at 11am.

3) i am becoming a bit of a health nut, and that scares me. i think i can too easily fall into the traps of an eating disorder, so i compensate by eating poptarts and dr pepper.

4) i have been to texas twice, and each time i got sicker than i ever have been before. conclusion; the state hates me.
5) i absolutely adore classic disney. i will sit down and watch “the jungle book” with you any time you ask. i know almost every word to almost every song.

you are in the break room, and you hear people whispering about billy the fugitive. they whisper aout how mean he is, how dangerous, and all you can think about is softball. how he helped you ride a bike. how funny he was when he wasn’t pulling your hair. billy is your brother, and despite all his faults, you love him. but just because you love him doesn’t mean you are going to out yourself to your coworkers as his sibling.

that is my life with bipolar disorder. granted, i am not sure if i have it or not, but if i do, i can compartmentalize the parts of me the disorder affects. i am not thrilled with the mood swings i have, and i sometimes just want to be normal. but then i consider my creativity, my obsessions, the things that make me different, and i wouldn’t trade them for the world.

just like you wouldn’t trade your brother.

oftentimes, i hear people talk in low voices about people with bipolar disorder. “i was once a camp counselor, and there was a girl in my cabin with bipolar disorder. she winged out on me one night, and we had to call the cops.” “she did work here, until she got diagnosed with bipolar. none of us really wanted her here after that, and i think she got the message. it was just so uncomfortable, you know?” “he’s in the counseling office. it has to do with his crazyyyness. he called it bi-what-have-you.”

2/3 of the above were from last week alone.

i’m not crazy.

sometimes, i feel i should stand up to these people. for these people they are talking about. for myself. for everyone out there who struggle with that label. for everyone who struggle with other labels. but i don’t. because the moment i identify myself with bipolar disorder is the moment people start looking at me differently.

and they won’t be able to hear over their stereotypes and predjudices, my whisper, i’m not crazy.

i was struck by how fast people walked in manhattan. women in suits and heels, walking so fast you could have sworn they were running. mothers with baby strollers, hurrying to mcdonalds without bothering to say “pardon” or “excuse me”.

the one time i felt like a tourist in my city, the one time i felt like i didn’t belong, was every time i held open a door for an elderly person, or a mother with children. i never saw another person in the city do that, and it saddened me. where i am from in the south, you take off your shoes when entering a person’s home, say “yes ma’am”, and hold the doors open for women with children and the elderly (men are to hold it open for all women, regardless of whether they have kids with them). since moving to illinois, i cannot tell you how many doors i have had slammed on my face, because i expect the man at the post office to hold it open for me.

culture shock.
the pace in my city was incredible, but i soon learned to keep up. i was consantly wired on the energy of those around me – who needed double shots of espresso when you were surrounded by such energy, so many dreams, so many people trying so hard to do what seemed important to them at the time.

i got by on six hours of sleep a night, sometimes less. and i didn’t notice it affecting me, until i boarded my plane home. i fell asleep almost as soon as i sat down.

i was only there for ten days. i cannot imagine how people feel when they leave after not leaving the city for five years.

we did a very sobering exercise in my cna class today that i think everyone should do. however, it could be triggering emotionally for some people, so please do not participate if you are feeling emotionally unstable, or aren’t ready to shed a few tears.

take a sheet of paper, and tear it into ten pieces.

on two pieces, write down your two favorite hobbies. writing. spending time with siblings.

on the next two, your two favorite possessions. alphasmart. doll from grandpa.

put down your two favorite memories on the next two. underground house. manhattan 2011.

next is your favorite people. put two down. sister #1. sister #2.

for your last two sheets of paper, write down your two favorite places. new york. ponte vedra beach.

put a bowl in front of you, and prepare your pieces of paper.

this is your life. these are the most important things to you, the things that drive you. now, let’s say you go blind; put anything in the bowl that you can no longer keep, or use.

alphasmart isn’t braille-enabled.

because of a medication your doctors put you on, you have a stroke. your left side of your body is almost paralyzed, and you are in a wheelchair. put what that causes you to lose in the bowl.

writing.

one of your favorite people die. put their name in the bowl.

sister #1

you are diagnosed with alzheimers, and you forget the other person. put their name in the bowl.

sister #2

you get put in a nursing home because your condition has detoriated that much. you can’t remember your own name. put what you lose in the bowl.

memories of underground house and manhattan. ability to travel to nyc and ponte vedra beach.

in these short steps, i am left with my doll and time with my remaining siblings. of course, if i don’t have my mind, those things are useless to me.

it really makes you think about what the elderly go through all the time, and how depressed or sad they can be. it is frightening. i do not want to lose the things i hold so dearly. it is very scary, if you let yourself dwell (don’t).

how lucky we are to be alive, healthy, and to have the things we do, even if those things are as simple as our minds.